


It Wasn’t Him

by mrs_t2019



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Probably ooc, lots of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_t2019/pseuds/mrs_t2019
Summary: Fists, blood, and metal. Grunts and cries. Cold. Pain. Protect. Steve’s mind was on a very simple track. Bucky was hurt and he had to fix it. That’s what he did. Fixed things. He refused to lose him again. But at what cost? His other best friend?TLDR: What we really wanted at the end of Civil War.





	It Wasn’t Him

Fists, blood, and metal. Grunts and cries. Cold. Pain. Protect. Steve’s mind was on a very simple track. Bucky was hurt and he had to fix it. That’s what he did. Fixed things. He refused to lose him again. But at what cost? His other best friend? His relationships? His home? None of these things crossed his mind, though, when he saw Bucky’s arm blasted off by Tony’s reactor. He only saw rage.

“Steve,” someone called under the din of fists on metal. He didn’t hear it. “Steve...stop, please.”

Still, he heard nothing. All he saw was red. He pummeled the man beneath him, feeling that his knuckles were close to breaking, but he didn’t care. He had to save Bucky.

“Steve, you have to...stop,” the voice said again, pausing to cough in the middle. He barely registered it, but it was starting to creep through. Pushing it aside, he ripped off the metal mask and raised his shield over his head. Hands came up to protect a bloodied and broken face. As Steve brought the shield down, only one thing stopped him: Tony’s eyes. Deep brown, tears pooling in the corners and streaming down his cheeks. It wasn’t the tears that halted the shield’s descent. It was the fear, anger, and pain swimming in the wide orbs.

Fear.

Tony was... _afraid_.

Of him.

Steve’s chest heaved with exertion, his arms trembling. His hands were locked tight. He could let go of his weapon. He had no idea what to do. Take out Tony’s suit and fly away with Bucky, or let him go and pray that he didn’t hurt them? Steve lost his focus.

“Steve, put it down. Listen to me.” That voice. The red started clearing. His whole body shook as he sat on top of Tony, who hadn’t moved an inch. He felt tension on his shield and tightened his grip. “Give it here, pal. I’ve got it.”

The soothing, albeit tortured, voice was talking right in his ear. He knew that voice. Trusted it. He fingers released their death grip and he heard a sharp clatter. The realization of what he had almost done hit Steve like a ton of bricks. He’d almost killed Tony Stark, one of his best friends. He cried out softly, trying to scramble backwards, before a strong arm wrapped under his own and around his chest, hauling him back off of Tony to lean against a cold wall. He pushed against the ground with his hands, trying to disappear into the stone, his breath coming in gasps as terror coursed through his body.

“Oh, God,” he wheezed, dizziness and nausea threatening to overtake him.

“Steve, calm down. We’re okay,” the voice said as a blurry figure knelt in front of him.

 _Bucky_.

“Buck,” Steve croaked, raising a hand to his friend’s bloody cheek. Bucky nodded, holding onto that hand and rubbing it with his thumb.

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Tony...” Bucky looked back at the man in question, seeing him struggling to sit up. He turned his gaze to Steve again as he stood. “Stay here.”

“Bucky, no,” Steve warned.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Bucky slowly limped over to Tony, as if approaching a frightened animal. He winced at the pain in his shoulder and back, but kept moving. Tony watched him warily, hate boiling in his eyes as he tried and failed to sit up straight. He pulled himself backwards, an unconscious fear of the man who had killed his parents. Bucky knelt next to him, looking down and covering his eyes with his long, blood-matted hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it doesn’t bring your parents back. I know it doesn’t absolve me of what I did. Hydra controlled me. They tortured me for decades and made me do what they wanted. It doesn’t change the fact that it was me, but I tried to fight it. I swear to you, I tried so hard that night. But...I wasn’t strong enough to break it. I didn’t want to do it. I loved your parents. They were so good to us, and if I could bring them back, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know.”

Tony stared at the soft-spoken man in front of him. He was so conflicted. He knew what Hydra was capable of. He knew that Barnes wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter. But...he’d killed his mother. No...the Winter Soldier killed his mother. Barnes was the Winter Soldier. No, Hydra created the Winter Soldier in Barnes’ mind...Tony’s head was spinning. The man in front of him looked up and all he saw was regret. This was no killer.

“We’re not friends, Barnes, but...I know it wasn’t your fault,” he muttered, his heart twisting as he remembered the video. It took his breath away. A hand was thrust in front of him and he hesitantly took it, tired of not being able to sit up.

“I understand,” Bucky said, releasing the metal gauntlet when Tony was steady. Tony’s new position allowed him to see Steve. The strongest man he knew was staring at him, tears and blood flowing down his cheeks as he trembled.

“Help me up,” Tony requested, taking Bucky’s hand again and pulling himself to stand. “We gotta get out of here before Ross comes snooping. Get him back to the jet together?”

“Let’s go,” Bucky answered. They both made their way to Steve, who was still staring at Tony. The man in the iron suit stood still in front of him, watching him. Neither made a move until...

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered brokenly. Tony wasn’t sure which part of all this he was apologizing for, but he didn’t care at the moment. He still felt angry, but Steve looked so...lost.

“Worry about it later, Rogers. Get your ass up.” He picked up Steve’s shield and held it in his right hand while he and Bucky pulled the man to his feet. Bucky looked worse for wear, but he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist after sliding under his left arm, Tony doing the same on the right, and together they supported him back to the quinjet. Tony got them both strapped in after removing his suit, sitting in the pilot’s seat and thinking about where they could go. He thought of only one place that they would all be safe...

**********

Steve and Tony hadn’t spoken since the bunker. They’d barely looked at each other. T’Challa had given them each their own room to clean up and rest while Bucky was treated. They stood in front of the cryochamber in their civilian clothes, watching as Bucky was frozen, as Steve’s already fragile heart was torn to pieces. He didn’t say anything, though. When the process was complete, he silently fled the room. Tony kept quiet, following him slowly. They ended up in Steve’s assigned room, Tony shutting and locking the door behind himself. Steve paced the room, chewing on his right thumb nail while holding back tears.

Tony took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to diffuse his rage. It wouldn’t bring his parents back. He walked over to Steve and took his hand from his mouth, squeezing it when the man jumped, startled as if he hadn’t known he was in the room. He looked so lost, a lone tear falling from his blue eyes. Tony made the decision then to forgive him, pulling him into an embrace with a hand on the back of his head. Steve squeezed him tightly, trembling in his arms.

“Tony,” he whispered, clutching the back of his shirt as if he would disappear.

“I’m here,” Tony said, stroking his hair. He knew Steve was close to breaking. He needed to before he could heal. “I’ve got you. Let go, Steve. I’m here.”

A deep full-body shudder and a strangled sob into his shoulder made Tony flinch, but he didn’t let go of him, even when Steve’s knees buckled. He lowered them to the ground, his body supporting Steve as he leaned heavily into him.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed, the weight of his pain and guilt dragging him down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I know. You were protecting me. I’ve got it figured out,” Tony told him. He was still hurt, but he wasn’t the only one.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I had to protect him, too.” Tony nodded and rubbed his back.

“Everything’s okay, Steve. Stop apologizing. I forgive you. And I’m sorry I attacked you both. I lost my head. But it wasn’t Bar—Bucky’s fault. You forgive me?” he asked, pressing his cheek to the side of Steve’s head. Steve nodded, and his sobs increased. “God, Steve, it’s okay. Come on.”

Tony pulled him up, practically dragging him to sit on the couch. Steve curled up on his side, facing away from Tony as the man cradled his head in the crook of his elbow as that arm crossed in front of his chest to hold him close. Tony’s other hand ran up and down his arm while he sat back, trying to comfort his friend.

“Tony...he’s gone,” Steve croaked.

“No, he’s not. He’s getting help,” Tony answered. One of Steve’s hands reached up to hold his wrist on his chest.

“Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Just relax. You need to get some rest. Wanna lay on the bed?” Steve shook his head, holding his wrist tighter. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you.”

Steve paused before nodding and sitting up with Tony’s help. They moved to the bed and Steve laid down, Tony sitting up against the headboard. He put his hand between his shoulder blades when Steve turned on his side to face him with his chest against his thigh, the soldier’s arm going over his hips and head settling on his hip bone. He felt Steve’s hand rubbing his waist as they comforted each other, Tony swiping the silent tears from his face.

Steve heard a sniffle above him and turned his face up to look at Tony. The man was an absolute wreck. They both were. And this wasn’t just about him. He lifted his arm from Tony’s waist and reached up, gently pulling his head down to his shoulder and stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. Tony broke, too, deep, gut-wrenching sobs buried in Steve’s shoulder as he wound his arm around the broad chest from behind. The way Tony’s hand was desperately dragging at his shirt told Steve he wasn’t the only one who needed someone right now, so he carefully shifted until they were both laying down facing each other. He cupped Tony’s cheek, heart breaking at the anger and pain that continued to linger in his eyes.

“C’mere,” Steve beckoned through his own tears, pulling Tony to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I love you, man.”

”Me too,” Tony choked, holding him tightly.

Together they released their pain into the universe.


End file.
